Finding Brandyl
by Aardvark-Alice
Summary: The struggles and triumphs of Brand-Shei's quest to find his past. Something a little light-hearted to my other stories. No pairings as of yet, but you never know! Possible spoilers, if you're really new to Skyrim.
1. Identity Crisis

**AN: I wrote this a few weeks ago, but I didn't feel like I should have posted it because of my other stories. BUT, as I am applying to roleplay Brand-Shei on the "Call of Time" website, I grabbed the opportunity with both hands and decided to post this up. Enjoy!**

Chapter 1 – Identity Crisis

Brand-Shei took a long, hard look into the reflection in the lake. He saw a Dunmer, shown by his grime-coloured complexion, his empty, black eyes and his slightly bent, but still pointed, ears. His not-quite-shoulder-length, jet black hair was pushed back carelessly, showing off his receding hairline and his protruding brow that swelled like an overripe tomato. His eyes were narrow, squinting, with many wrinkles and bags hanging underneath, threatening to drop off of his face altogether. He had a strange nose: a narrow bridge, but extremely wide nostrils that flared upwards slightly. Just under his nose was a grimace, made from cracked, slight lips. The corners permanently shadowed downwards, creases made into the canvas of his face through years of a rough life and struggle. The rest of his face was just a long, narrow expanse of chin.

You wouldn't expect someone who was so frank with himself to have a problem with his own identity.

He splashed a handful of the murky, lake water onto his face, rubbing the sides of his nose as he did. He watched the space were his face used to be, now an unstable plane of dancing light. He smiled in the irony and shook his head slightly, before dunking the buckets into the lake. Carrying one bucket in each hand, he waddled back into Riften through the main gate. The sun shone brightly, bearing a happy, bright light on the town. But even bright blue skies and a hot, summer sun could not wash out the sheer _depression_ in the town. On every corner you had a burly Nord giving you a dirty look or a thieving little fetcher trying to slip his hand into your pockets. The honest folk lived in fear every day that they'll have a thief or a murderer at their doorstep or by their bedside, and the dishonest were the perpetrators. In Riften, it seemed like you were rewarded for being a bad, corrupt person.

Brand-Shei continued to wobble with the two bucket, his legs so far apart you could fit a horse underneath him. He made his way past the bridge over to the market and up to the door of Haelga's Bunkhouse, a grand wooden fortress for the working class of Riften. He backed up against the door slowly, following the swing of the door until it hit the wall behind him with a small bump.

"I _told_ you not to bang the _bloody door_!" Haelga shouted, clenching her fists tightly.

He mumbled his apology, before adding cheerfully, "I got you the water you wanted."

"Put them by the fire." She replied flatly, her back now to him as she walked towards the basement.

Brand-Shei, not even fractionally disheartened by Haelga's bitterness, plonked the buckets, as instructed, by the fire, and plonked himself next to Tythis Ulen, not in a dissimilar fashion to how he plonked the buckets of water by the fire.

"Hey, Tythis!" He chirped, picking up an unclaimed plate of bread and goat's cheese.

"Hello, Brandy." Tythis smiled pleasantly through a mouthful of bread. "What's it like out, today?"

"Nice, I guess," he replied, slicing through the loaf. "Apparently, another thief got killed just out on the docks last night." He lay down a slab of cheese on the slice and bit into it. The burst of flavour felt like bliss, but anything tasted great when you could only to afford to eat once a day.

"Typical." Tythis rolled his piercing red eyes and shook his head, which made the high ponytail on his head swing in rhythm. He hurriedly stood up, licking his fingers. "I'd better go, the demand for fish peaks hugely just before Sun's Rest."

"Of course, of course," Brand-Shei nodded, swallowing down a hard lump of crust and turning to his friend sharply. "And just making sure, we are still going on that picnic-walk-thing one Sun's Rest, the lot of us."

"Yeah..." Tythis stretched his answer slightly, knowing just how many things could go wrong when a bunch of misfit labourers went out on a _relaxing_ picnic. "Yeah, we are, no worries," he added, trying his best to remove the worried expression on Brand-Shei's face.

"That's good." He nodded, feeling exactly the same as Tythis. "Have a good day, anyway!" He stood and bellowed out to the door, which was then answered with the slam of the door. The hand he waved to his friend with curled up slightly, before he sat back down and continued with his day's meal. He glanced over to the clock on the mantelpiece, munching happily. The hands both met at the bottom of the face. _Plenty of time_, he thought as he swallowed another scratchy mouthful.

Of course, time flying as quick as it did in Brand-Shei's free time, he soon found himself walking to his market stall with Grelka.

"I swear, one day, I'm going to leave Skyrim," she griped, like she did every other morning, "the stupid civil war, all the political shenanigans and now dragons, supposedly mythical beings, reappearing is all too much for me." After receiving a long, uncomfortable lull, she suddenly snapped viciously: "Don't you want to go back to Morrowind?"

Brand-Shei could not remember how many times he told this to Grelka, but it was enough to make his usually unbreakable face crack into a frown.

"I was raised in the Black Marsh. I have never seen or lived in Morrowind in my entire life."

"Fine, whatever," Grelka dismissed him carelessly, before waving her hand as a goodbye and stepping into the Bee and Barb. She ate there every day because she could afford to. Brand-Shei took a breath in to say something but then, only just realising he was on his own when he saw Grelka's arm slip into the inn, snapped his mouth shut and continued to saunter up to his stall.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Brynjolf's accented voice bellowed. "Is your skin rough, itchy or undesirable in any way? Well, you're in luck! For the miracle serum will solve all of your skin problems!"

Brand-Shei watched the hoards of people drift towards him, their faces filled with enlightenment. Very few things made Brand-Shei angry, but one thing was Brynjolf. His malicious smoothness, infatuating the women with his "miracle" products and "saviour" services. _He'd probably get more money and demand from being a prostitute_, Brand-Shei grumbled in his mind, dusting the leaves off of his stall. The day itself had been frantic (especially for the scheming Brynjolf), it being the day before Sun's Rest. He didn't see what the big deal of working on Sun's Rest was, but there was a hefty fine from the Merchant's Guild if you opened up shop on that day, so he decided it would be more profitable _not_ to work.

"I'll take one!" A woman called out.

"Give me two!" Another wailed.

"I want ten!" A gruff, man's voice shouted over the crowd, causing Brand-Shei's eyebrow to shoot up in disbelief and irony. He gazed down at his products: a small pile of iron ingots, a couple of cave bear pelts, a sabre cat pelt, a steel dagger, an iron war-axe, a bagful of assorted gems, a few lockpicks, a random selection of cutlery and, the pinnacle of his merchandise, some filled soul gems. Though his problem did not lie in the amount or the type of merchandise, as he had plenty in the boxes and barrels that surrounded him. No, it was the fact he couldn't tear the customers away from the other stalls and lure them to his. He wasn't into the shouting that the other merchants did, so he usually remained neglected.

"Hey, you awake?" A female voice asked.

The Dunmer snapped his head up to face where the voice came from. He recognised the Nord immediately. I mean, who didn't recognise the Dragonborn?

"Oh, sorry ma'am," Brand-Shei giggled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. _What was the Dragonborn doing a dump like Riften? And what was she doing at a pathetic stall like mine?_ Brand-Shei pondered.

"The name's Helga, what's yours?" She thrusted a hand towards him, smiling amiably. He noticed all the heads turn towards her when she stated her name, some in shock, some in excitement. Some in both.

"Brand-Shei," he replied nervously, slightly taken aback by the sudden introduction, shaking her hand with his elbow digging into his own ribs because her arm was too close to him.

"Oh..." She loosened her grip slightly, knotting her brow. "That's an awfully strange name for a Dunmer."

"Well, that's because I was brought up Argonian," he spoke with all earnestness, not hesitating to hide away his past from this complete stranger. "Abandoned as a baby, you see. A kindly Argonian family in the Black Marsh took great care of me the day they found me."

The Dovahkiin cocked her head to one side in interest (and a hint of sympathy). "Don't you ever get curious as to who your parents are? And where they are?"

Brand-Shei shrugged his shoulders and his mouth twitched into a small grimace. "I get curious, but I'm stuck behind this stall all day, trying to make ends meet. I can't leave because I haven't got the money..." He trailed off. Noticing how sad he was beginning to sound, he perked up suddenly to try and brighten spirits. "But what does it matter? I lived a good, honest life, what more do I need?"

The Dragonborn, still not convinced that Brand-Shei was actually happy, put her fists on her hips and puffed out a chest into a heroic stance. "Perhaps there is a way to find out. Were you left with anything when you were left? Perhaps a mysterious necklace or a magic ring?"

The Dunmer chuckled heartily at the Nord's sarcasm, though he cut off mid-laugh on seeing her stern scowl. "I guess there was the House Telvanni symbol on the blankets I was swaddled in-."

"Excellent! I will get on the case immediately!" She clapped her hands in excitement before turning around and leaping towards the gate out of Riften before he could get another word out.

Brand-Shei stared at the space she was stood for a while, in mild awe, before continuing to tend to his stall, not aware of the adventure ahead of him.


	2. Day of Rest

**AN: Sorry there was quite a wait for updating this chapter, I've been very busy with schoolwork and whatnot. There's a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but I tried my best to add interest with descriptions. Hope you like it!**

Chapter 2 – Day of Rest

The fire crackled quietly as Brand-Shei stared that the wooden ceiling. His ears were met with the familiar sound of soft snores from the residence of Haelga's Bunkhouse. He squinted his eyes shut, wanting to force sleep on himself. No use. It was still dark outside, and one lonely bird sang outside, like the lonely thoughts that whispered in Brand-Shei's mind. A happy birdsong, but still lonely.

_Where are my roots?_ He pondered, now staring absent-mindedly at the wooden heaven above. _Who are my ancestors?_The weight in his heart began to sink, something that happened when he was alone. It was always there, but it was something he grew up with, long before he could remember, the instinctive part of him, the part that attempted to drag him to Morrowind, to find his parents, or _any_ family. He felt his eyes become glassy, almost feeling the dust settle on the surface. For a while, he just lay still, acknowledging the tickling pain, but doing nothing about it. But after a while, he rubbed his eyes. More birds were beginning to join in chirping outside and the sun crept up a little more. It was going to be a long day, he just knew it. He felt his eyelids slip over his drying eyes.

"BRAND-SHEI!" The noise tore through his ears, causing him to jolt up immediately. The first thing he noticed was it was pitch-black.

"WHAT?" Brand-Shei shrieked back at the darkness. He started to panic slightly, and frantically feel around himself. He slapped his hands onto his face, only to find two, dried hands under his touch.

"Good morning, Brandy," Tythis cooed lightly, removing his hands from Brand-Shei's eyes. The surge of light caused Brand-Shei to recoil slightly before looking up to his friend, who was stood facing him, shirtless. The warm light of the morning bent around his defined physique as he took a perch at the edge of Brand-Shei's bed, and beamed cheekily. "You snore like no one's business."

"Sorry," Brand-Shei grumbled jokingly, pushing himself into a seated position.

Tythis shrugged, "means you're sleeping peacefully, which is good. Anyway, you should get ready to go out. Today's going to be... Interesting." He rose and padded out of the room, glancing over several surfaces on the way out in search of his shirt. Brand-Shei sat staring at the doorway for a couple of seconds, before looking out the window, which was now flooding with a holy, golden light that graced most summer mornings in Riften. As he slid out of his bed and wandered to his wardrobe, he listened to Grelka's raspy groaning.

"Why do we even _have_ to do this? I don't want to go out on some pansy, pathetic picnic with you idiots! I mean, why is there even a day of rest? I need the money so I can get away from milk-drinkers like you."

"It would be nice if we got to know each other better," Ungrien piped, innocently.

"I mean, you seem like my kind of girl," Haelga purred back, something that was bound to wind up Grelka even more.

Brand-Shei was making his way down the stairs by the time the argument had simmered down. Two large baskets crammed with food sat on the table, one of them with a small stream of steam floating out of a gap in the lid. It was just Grelka, Ungrien and Haelga in the room at this moment.

"The others are outside. Apart from that lizard, Wujeeta," Grelka griped, scuffing a boot on the wooden floor.

"I heard that, you grumpy wretch!" Wujeeta hissed from up the stairs.

_Let's try and stay positive..._Brand-Shei pondered to himself, before carrying one of the baskets for Haelga.

Together, the residents of Haelga's Bunkhouse set off out of Riften and into the Rift's beautiful forests, the sky's pastel blue flawless from horizon to horizon. The nine of them wandered west, past Snow-Shod Farm and Goldenglow Estate, then ventured off the path and deeper into the woodland. Brand-Shei could feel his stomach gurgle when Haelga decided where they would stop.

"Here!" Haelga stomped her foot and pointed at the ground directly below her. Brand-Shei and Ungrein set down the baskets of food around the footprint Haelga left on the soft mud. Tythis also placed a large, closed crate of clinking bottles, which he soon opened by peeling back the wooden slats with ease. The three men were soon batted away by Haelga's hand, making several gestures to for everyone to sit in a circle. Once she had arranged the food neatly, she took a seat in the circle.

"Dig in, friends," she raised her arms joyously, commencing the meal. A flurry of arms reached for food and bottles of ale and mead.

Haelga continued, "Well, I dragged you all out here for a good meal and some time to get to know each other. So, let's start by introducing ourselves to each other. I'm Haelga, your landlady. I am a worshipper of Dibella and like to go on walks in my spare time."

She glanced towards Svana, which was greeted by a half-hearted smile before she turned to the rest of the group, "My name is Svana Far-Shield, and I work at the Bunkhouse, as you are probably well aware. I clean the house and cook your meals every morning and evening."

After a small cheer of appreciation by the group, From-Deepest-Fathoms began to speak, staring intensely at the patch of earth in front of her. "I'm From-Deepest-Fathoms, who is actually from the Black Marsh. In my younger years, I ventured around ruins and ancient crypts, but have settled down as a fisherwoman now."

Brand-Shei went to open his mouth to ask her what she was staring at, but before he could, Wujeeta had already introduced herself as a "simple, Argonian fisherwomen", to which Grelka loudly coughed, "skooma addict".

Wanting to avoid an argument ensuing, Ungrien perked up cheerily. "My name is Ungrien and I work the tasting counter at the Black-Briar Meadery. I was born in Skyrim, and lived here in Riften my whole life. Life is good." He chirped and continued to gnaw his way through a carrot. Wujeeta through a glare at Grelka before the introductions continued.

"Niluva Hlaalu," she rested a hand on her chest, "I work at the Black-Briar Meadery with Ungrien. I like to think I work hard, what with my current... Issues."

A thick silence lulled over the group for a few seconds, where Wujeeta rested a caring hand on her shoulder.

Brand-Shei finished his mouthful and introduced himself. "The name's Brand-Shei, I work a stall in the market selling odd trinkets and certain goods from Morrowind. There's not much to me, really..."

"You're too modest, Brand-Shei," Niluva chuckled, "you're a nice guy and a good peacemaker among all of our quarrels."

Most of the others agreed heartily, to which Brand-Shei tipped a nod of appreciation to Niluva. Tythis, after ruffling up Brand-Shei's hair, went to introduce himself to the others. "Tythis Ulen of Mournhold. I work at the fishery. Sometimes, I think leaving Mournhold was a mistake, but when I come back to the bunkhouse at the end of the day, I have a good group of friends that reminds me that life here is actually pretty good."

Grelka grunted angrily, "yeah, whatever. I'm Grelka, and the one thing I hate more than social gatherings is social gatherings with idiots like you." She then proceeded to rip the cork off of her mead bottle with her teeth, spit it out and take a short swig.

"Uh, ok Grelka," Haelga laughed, rolling her eyes. "So, I think that we need to get those questions off of our chest and be open with each other. I want us to be completely honest with each other, and I want this to be a _civil_ and _sincere_ discussion, ok? Let's begin."

Silence fell over them, with just the birdsong and the subtle breeze filtering through the forest.

"Hey, Niluva?" Ungrien finally chirped, rather merrily, "What actually _is_ your problem? I've never noticed anything wrong, and I think you're actually a very strong, young lady."

She blushed slightly, though Brand-Shei could not tell whether it was from embarrassment or bashfulness. It seemed everyone knew her problem, but Ungrien was so oblivious of bad things in the world, it wasn't a surprise that he had to ask about it. Grelka crossed her arms and looked away as Niluva opened her mouth to speak. "I'm a skooma addict, honey," she replied bravely, not even hesitating.

The Bosmer's eyes looked as though they were about to fall out of his skull. "Really? I... I honestly didn't know." Rather suddenly, he threw his arms around Niluva, who smiled at his innocence, before resting her head on his arms, touched by his actions. The others in the group looked quite peacefully. Ungrien was a rather large Bosmer, but had the naivety of a child and the heart of an angel.

"See, just shows how being open can make us closer together. Let's continue: I'm sure we can make some really good progress."

"I have a good question," Grelka grinned mischievously, "Wujeeta, and now Niluva, why don't you get stop taking skooma and get over it?"

Brand-Shei sucked a gasp through his teeth, not wanting to be sat where he was right then. He could almost see the steam pour out of Niluva, but Ungrien tightened his grip, which seemed to calm her somewhat. Wujeeta, on the other hand, was already in Grelka's face and grabbing onto the collar of her shirt with clawed fist.

"You have _no_ idea what we have to go through every day. You can't even look past the end of your own nose to even _act_ caring or kind. So I suggest you drop the subject right now." She hissed, bearing her sharp, spiked teeth.

"Ok, ok, my Gods," Grelka batted the Argonian's hand away and adjusted her shirt collar. Wujeeta rose and returned to her spot in the circle, making sure to flick her tail and knock over Grelka's mead.

"Right," Svana swiftly moved on before anyone could make another comment on skooma addiction, "I have a question for Brand-Shei. You have an awfully strange name for a Dunmer, any reason why?"

Brand-Shei didn't mind being open with people, but he also didn't want to appear remorseful over the fact that he hasn't got a Dunmeri heritage. "I was raised Argonian. Orphaned at birth, I was adopted by a kindly Argonian family. I don't quite know how I got in that position, but I'm hoping I'll find out, some day."

"Jeez, that must have been a difficult time for you," Wujeeta clucked. "A lot of Argonians don't exactly treat Dunmer with any respect."

"Well, fate led me to a childhood in the Black Marsh. Besides, I'm happy." Brand-Shei didn't lie completely: he was happy, just not with his identity. Tythis, detecting the lie immediately, patted his friend sympathetically on the back, before returning to his cheese sandwich. Brand-Shei straightened his back and turned to Ungrien. "Speaking of being happy, why are you always so cheery? Not that it's a problem, it's just quite _impressive_."

Ungrien, who had now let go of Niluva, ran a hand over his shaved head, timidly, "I just don't see the point in dwelling on problems, and I have so much to be grateful. A warm bed, nice food... A lovely boss to work for." The sarcasm at the end of his answer made the group chuckle lightly.

Brand-Shei looked about his content roommates. _Perhaps I should start living in the present, rather than dwelling on the past_, he thought positively, before returning to the discussion of Ungrien's unfortunate job.


	3. Facing Futures

**AN: Well, well, it really has been a while! I apologise for it, the fault is mine for taking five subjects in college. Hopefully I will find time to write chapters more frequently though. I will also re-format the previous chapters to make everything seem more together, in that sense. I hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter 3 – Facing Futures

It had been a week since Brand-Shei's day off, though he still found himself thinking about it rather a lot. He guessed one reason for this was because it was one of his few days off yearly, but it was also because it was such a good day for him. For once, most of the tenants at the Bunkhouse actually got along, obviously excluding Grelka. He did sometimes feel sympathy for her, thinking that maybe, just _maybe_, there's a part of her that is trying to reach out to people. Though he was always proved wrong in his thoughts whenever Grelka snorted some form of insult or jeer at the other members of the household. She seemed, to him, completely selfish and careless of other's feelings. Of course, one can only truly trust oneself in life… But how could Brand-Shei trust himself when he didn't even know who he was?

The Dunmer leant on his stall on his elbows, his forearms flat against the wooden top. Business had been relatively quiet since Sun's Rest, but it was rising to normal slowly, as it did every year. All was normal, though at the same time... It was, to a small degree, unusually nice. Brand-Shei's wondered back to the picnic.

"Goodness, Brand-Shei," Ungrien began, sinking onto a bench just outside the Bunkhouse, "I've learnt so much about the others today, it's unreal. You'd never think up some of the things just looking at them, for some of them. And you, even!"

"Yeah," Brand-Shei agreed warmly a half-full bottle of mead nestled in his hand. The two were alone on the bench, the others inside the Bunkhouse. Brand-Shei spoke a little languidly after the rather exhausting day, as well as a perfect haziness achieved from a few tipples consumed over the course of the day. The Dunmer was somewhat lazily cheerful when tipsy, except for when he drinking for the sole purpose to drown his sorrows, though this was very rare and often done alone.

"I mean… Wujeeta and Niluva? Skooma-addicts? Who'd have thought?"

Brand-Shei smiled a little, doing his best to supress it. Everyone had thought. In fact, everyone knew. Except Ungrien, it seemed, with his lack of social awareness and child-like charm. "Yeah," The Dunmer said back as a response, pretending to be too tired to say something creative, just to prevent awkwardness.

"But that doesn't change my opinion of them one bit!" Ungrien almost sang with positivity. "They're still nice people, and good members of society, as far as I'm concerned. And Niluva has such a lovely soul..."

Sensing the softness in Ungrien's voice at the mention of Niluva, Brand-Shei let himself smile. "You know, maybe you should talk to her more. There might be more to learn about her," he encouraged subtly, making the Bosmer turn his head a little and blush.

"Oh, she hasn't got time for people like me. She must be pressed for time working so much to get money, and coping with the addiction." Ungrien wave a hand dismissively, putting on a grin and a jokey tone. But Brand-Shei knew full well it was put on, understanding it all too well.

"Well, I think some company would help her. I bet having things turning against her like that must be awful faced alone."

Ungrien blushed a little more, fiddling with the tip of his right ear out of nervousness. "You think?"

"Most definitely. And you," Brand-Shei pointed the neck of the bottle toward Ungrien casually. "You are one of the sweetest people in Riften. Sweeter than the finest of skooma, I'd say. Perhaps you can help her curb the addiction, eh?" He proceeded to take a swig of mead.

Ungrien chuckled, making it quite obvious how hard he was trying to hide his bashfulness. The feeling was suddenly cut off though, as he turned to look straight at Brand-Shei, his voice expressing shock. "You've tried skooma?"

Brand-Shei rapidly brought the bottle away from his lips, replacing it with a hand and forcing the mouthful down his throat, before uncovering his mouth and cracking up in laughter. "Oh, no, not at all! That stuff is far too rich for my blood. I just said that as a figure of speech."

"Oh," Ungrien spoke flatly, before a grin spread across his lips. "I was about to say! You really don't seem the type."

"You didn't expect Niluva to be one until she told us today," Brand-Shei nodded his head, slipping a serious undertone into the tranquil air.

"Yeah, that's true," Ungrien giggled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "People aren't always as they seem, are they?"

Brand-Shei felt a shudder somewhere in him, as he forced out a polite answer. "Indeed."

A silence hung over them as they both considered, before Ungrien hopped to his feet. "Well, I oughta go inside and get myself some food and rest; Indaryn's gotten rather severe since Maven's last inspection report was below average."

Brand-Shei pulled a face at the mention of Maven, a little concerned for Ungrien's position. "You look after yourself, Ungrien."

"Oh, I will, don't you worry!" He chirped in response, before bowing his head to the Dunmer. "Have a good evening."

"You too."

Ungrien headed on inside, leaving Brand-Shei with the honey-glazed sunset, his belly full of mead and his head full of thoughts.

Brand-Shei blinked a couple of times, bringing hand over his brow to shield his eyes. As they become accustomed to sunlight after coming back from the darkness of closed eyes, the familiar sounds of the wind blowing leaves, idle chatter and dock bells met his ears. He lifted his head to look around at the people, not focussing particularly on faces or names, just watching the figures bustle by, and smiling softly of carefreeness.

_Look at the present, Brand-Shei. Look at all these people around you. _He felt the grin curl at his lips more. _Think of the people who go to our stall, the locals down at the bar, the Bunkhouse residents. You'll never be alone, as long as you keep an honest life, and don't get your head stuck in the past._

It was at that moment that Brynjolf's voice broke his train of thought, his voice chorusing through the streets of Riften. "Everyone! Everyone gather around! I have something amazing to show you that demands your attention!" He bellowed, a small crowd growing around his stall with every passing second. Brand-Shei rolled his eyes; how did people not see that every word he says is a lie and everything he sold was a scam? Well, maybe that was a bit strong, but…

"There's a new addition to my miracle stock, one that'll make you as strong as a bear, as happy as a clam and having you love-making like a sabre-cat!" He continued to preach, making some of the girls blush and coo, coyly. Brand-Shei was certainly not impressed, but decided to take this opportunity, while everyone was distracted, to rest his legs a little, coming around his stall and taking a seat on a stock crate to the side of his stall, looking over to the crowd, and therefore Brynjolf.

"Ay! You said dat last time abou' yer Revitalisin' Powder, an' all dat was were salt an' crushed Mudcrab chitin!" A voice from the crowd protested, followed with a couple of accusing jeers. Brynjolf expertly brushed off the insults, with a smile that would make a Thalmor official look modest.

"But what you don't understand is that _this_ is something different, something unique. I present to you… Falmer Blood Elixir!" The Nord produced a long bottle from behind his back, holding it up in the air triumphantly, as if it were the infant-emperor himself.

At this point, Brand-Shei lost interest, instead slipping into a dozy state, half-consciously looking around the townspeople and shoppers and not believing how they were buying Brynjolf's fabrications… And, much to Brand-Shei's annoyance, his "Falmer Blood Elixir". With Brynjolf rambling on for what seemed like a century, Brand-Shei's mind started to wander on his future. _I just have to keep working hard, keep my hands clean and never lose hope, _Brand-Shei told himself. _I'll have enough money to move away from Riften, the Thieves' Guild, and Brynjolf with his stupid Falmer Blood Elixir… Maybe move to Falkreath, or into Cyrodiil, if I'm really lucky with sales here. Perhaps I could ask Tythis if he wants to come too, I know he hates Riften. Then, once I've eased into my new home for a bit, maybe I can settle down, get myself a wife I love, start a family and live a quiet, happy life… That would be perfect._

"And that, my friends, is why you should purchase Brynjolf's new Falmer Blood Elixir!" Brynjolf shouted just as Brand-Shei's hearing faded back into the world. He fiddled with the tip of his right ear as he stood up and looked around; a good proportion of people were now holding their very own bottle of Falmer Blood Elixir. The Dunmer sighed through his nose, sharply. How was _anyone_ convinced by this? Oh, it seemed no use just sitting around internally ranting about it, so he just went back around behind his stall, swept the leaves off of the top and stood ready for customers, but it seemed most of them had not stopped fawning over Brynjolf. He looked down at his own biceps. Perhaps if he was more muscular, those people would come over to his stal-

"Oi! Grey-Skin!" A gruff, Nord-accented voice barked. Brand-Shei snapped his head up, taking a few seconds to realise that the Nord's voice belonged to a guard and was talking to-… To _him_! An ugly blend of shock at the insult and slight annoyance that lingered from Brynjolf's ridiculous speech washed over him as he tried to comprehend the meaning of this sudden rudeness. He wasn't given enough time to protest to that, as the guard continued in a sharp, ordering tone. "Turn out your pockets."

"Excuse me?" Brand-Shei's first reaction tumbled out of his mouth. He couldn't quite help it, but he had to be honest, he shouldn't put up with this, not even from a guard.

"Turn out your pockets so we know you don't have it." The man growled back, louder, from behind his helmet.

The Dunmer scowled, almost offended by the lack of clarity he's been given in this situation. "Have what? What in the blazes are you talking about?"

He couldn't see it so well, but he could have sworn the guard rolled his eyes. "It's been reported that you have committed theft against the fair people of Riften. Now, I won't say it again; turn out your pockets, _now!_"

Brand-Shei huffed a little, digging a hand into his pocket. "I don't understand, I don't have anyth-" His protest soon dissolved as confusion silenced him for just second. The hand in his pocket had stopped still at the touch of slightly warmed metal. After a moment passed, he pulled his hand out, revealing a silver ring. Brand-Shei's eyes widened as his confusion him overwhelmed his ability to stop his mouth from saying his thoughts. "W-Wait, what's this ring? This isn't mine!" He exclaimed, putting the ring on his stall's top like it had just come out of the forge.

"That's right, it isn't yours," the guard answered, impatiently. "You're under arrest, elf."

The words made him flush, his ears and neck hot with the rush of blood to his head. His disbelief of this happening to him translated as anger in his mind, making his voice a little gruffer, and his fists clench. "This is absurd! I didn't steal anything, I've never seen this ring before in my entire life!"

"We can do this one of two ways," the guard reached for the warhammer strapped to his back, causing fear to clasp at his chest in a tight vice. The guard took not consideration of Brand-Shei's sudden and quite evident distress, instead just ploughing on with his threat. "You can walk with me up to the keep, or I can _drag_ your lifeless body there. Your choice."

"But I-" Brand-Shei had to stop himself from protesting further. The burn of stubbornness that ran in his blood was boiling at this point, though one glance at that warhammer and he knew he could not win through this one, not even when he was being completely honest…

Defeated, Brand-Shei's gaze lowered, his voice merely a whisper of what it was moments ago. "Very well." He submitted, before stepping away from his stall and starting to walk to Mistveil Keep. After a few reluctant, trudging steps and with only a glimmer of daring left in him, he looked up behind him. Passing the sight of an angry guard with his warhammer still out, he could see the shoppers were staring at him, some in shock, some in disgust. Some in both. He could only muster a catch of Madesi's look of abhorrence before he could not face it any more, to which he flicked his glance at the next person he could find, which was, of all people, Brynjolf. Brand-Shei did not even notice all the mainly-female customers around him, encircling him like a frame of angels around a portrait of one of the Divines. No, all he could see was the hint of a smirk on the Nord's face and that dash of satisfaction and pride in his eyes. Brand-Shei gritted his teeth from the humiliation, so close to marching over to him and punching that smug so-and-so right in his gingered jaw, but instead doing what was best for him and quickly turning his head away from the people behind him. Getting to the foot of the staircase to the keep, he looked up at Mistveil Keep, the aged, stony walls looming over him. The windows above the main entrance reflected light that glared down at him, as if they were a pair of berating eyes judging him to be guilty of the heinous crime he has been accused of. Though he knew he was innocent, Brand-Shei felt a well of self-loathing start to collect in the nethermost of his heart. A sudden jab from the tip of the guard's warhammer made him walk again, towards the smaller door of the keep's prison.


End file.
